n ceaseless contact with this splendid creature, untrammelled by
any convention, daughter of the earth, yet chaste as her own mountain
winds; and considering that both of them were hot-blooded men, the only
wonder is that they did not fly at each other's throats, or dash in each
other's heads with stones, after the fashion of prehistoric males. It is
my well-supported conviction, however, that Jaffery, honest old bear,
seeing his comrade's very soul set upon the honey, trotted off and left
him to it, and made pretence (to satisfy his ursine conscience) of
growling his sarcastic disapproval.

"The devil of it was," he declared that night, with a sweep of his arm
that sent a full glass of whiskey and soda hurtling across space to my
bookshelves and ruining some choice bindings--"the devil of it was,"
said he, after expressing rueful contrition, "that she treated him like
a dog, whereas I could do anything I liked with her. But she married
him."

Of course she married him. Most Albanian young women in her position
would have married a brave and handsome Englishman of incalculable
wealth--even if they had not Liosha's ulterior motives. And beyond
question Liosha had ulterior motives. Prescott espoused her cause hotly.
He convinced her that he was a power in Europe. As a Reuter
correspondent he did indeed possess power. He would make the civilised
world ring with this tale of bloodshed and horror. He would beard
Sultans in their lairs and Emperors in their dens. He would bring down
awful vengeance on the heads of her enemies. How Sultans and Emperors
were to do it was as obscure as at the horror-filled hour of their first
meeting. But a man vehemently in love is notoriously blind to practical
considerations. Prescott put his life into her hands. She accepted it
calmly; and I think it was this calmness of acceptance that infuriated
Jaffery. If she had been likewise caught in the whirlpool of a mad
passion, Jaffery would have had nothing to say. But she did not (so he
maintained) care a button for Prescott, and Prescott would not believe
it. She had promised to marry him. That ideal of magnificent womanhood
had promised to marry him. They were to be married--think of that, my
boy!--as soon as they got back to Scutari and found a British Consul and
a priest or two to marry them. "Then for God's sake," roared Jaffery,
"let us trek to Scutari. I'm fed up with playing gooseberry. The Giant
Gooseberry. Ho! ho! ho!"

So they shor